


The World is Quiet Now

by fallen_dustbringer



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Frank reflects, POV Frank Castle, Post S2 of the Punisher, elevator scene flashback, inner monologue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 11:55:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20929811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallen_dustbringer/pseuds/fallen_dustbringer
Summary: In the midst of another war, Frank reflects on Karen and what she means to him.Post season-2 of The Punisher.





	The World is Quiet Now

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Kastle fam! 
> 
> This is my first ever fanfic. I am a grad student working on a project in which I have to practice a new form of literacy. I'm a huge Kastle fan (still mourning the cancellation, TBH), and a devoted reader of Kastle fanfic, so I thought I'd try writing a Kastle story for my project.
> 
> I'm not totally confident in the final product, but I'd love to get some feedback from the Kastle fanfic community!! Any and all comments/suggestions are welcome!
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
-R

He watches the bodies drop. Robotically, with sharp precision, he reloads. The sound of gunshots echo through the street, sirens screaming about a block away, growing closer. Grimacing at the bullet lodged deep in his thigh, he leans against the wall, feeling coolness on his back.

_“You cannot keep loving people in your dreams.” _

All those years he had dreamt of Maria, of her smile. Of the sound of her and the kids throwing their heads back in laughter. 

Of their blood, a burgundy canvas stretching to each corner of his mind. 

He has new nightmares now. A new reason to scramble back to consciousness every morning, as if a hole has been shot through his chest. Every night like clockwork, he dreams of her-- smart, stubborn. Eyes like a drop of water, hair like cornsilk. 

Her body blown apart by Lewis’s bomb. 

He shifts his weight onto his good leg and does a quick, calculated assessment. His left shoulder, probably dislocated. A few slices to his ribs, definitely stitches. He’s suffered worse.

_“What if you and I, we figured it out together?”_

He wonders what she had expected. What kind of life she envisioned if she had got tangled up in all of his endless blood and bullshit. 

Detecting a slight movement from the corner of his eye, he jams his elbow into the stranger’s eye socket and then fires a bullet into his chest. The body slumps onto the ground, maroon pooling underneath him. 

He wonders why she wanted him.

He leans back against the wall, gritting his teeth as a hot, searing pain surges through his thigh. As the sirens grow closer, he lets himself remember. 

**One year earlier**

_Both breathing heavily, they crash into the elevator walls. The fluorescent lights illuminate the blood sticking to the side of his face, the familiar red warmth trickling down his arm, shrapnel sticking out at an ugly, jagged angle._

_He raises his eyes to look at her. Her arm outstretched in exhaustion, her fingertips graze his skin for a brief moment, the gesture seeming to say, “We’re okay.” He feels his head nod, but the movement feels foreign, distant. His ears are ringing while deep in the recesses of his subconscious, his mind replays a familiar montage, one that’s so entrenched it almost feels like home._

Maria, her wide smile as she throws her head back and laughs, her lips pressing gently on the ridge of his nose.

Maria, her white dress splattered with blood.

_The montage is always there, on a loop-- laughter, lips, blood._

_Only now, he sees another woman’s blood._

_Passing her the handgun, he braces himself before jumping to break open the ceiling panel. Mind racing, body battered, he calculates how fast he will be able to climb up the elevator shaft. His arm will slow him down, cops will be posted at every exit, Russo will have--_

“Frank.”

_His thoughts sputter to a whisper of a halt and he meets her gaze._

_Slowly, _  
_and all at once,_  
_the world is quiet._

_Even the sky seems like it has forgotten how to breathe._

_Her voice renders him motionless, sinking him into a quiet void. She places her hand on his arm, and looking down at the ground, he can still feel the weight of her eyes on him._

_With his heart hammering, he looks up at her._

_Every fiber of his existence seems to exhale from the inside and out as he takes in her face. His soul loses balance as he slips further and further away, swimming in the blue._

_He was almost too late._

_Their private space they occupy hums with electricity. He finds himself glancing briefly at her lips, a whisper of a sad smile. Tentatively closing the gap between them, he lightly presses his forehead to hers, and they seem to exhale together, sharing the same breath. It’s as much as he can give at this moment, as much as his soul will allow him to share without shattering._

_As she pulls away, he feels hollow. Her voice cuts through him like ice._

“Go, go on.”

_Slowly,_  
_and all at once,_  
_the world is no longer quiet._

_Numb, his mind settles back into its home-- red with blood, the montage continuing. He looks at her one last time, not entirely sure of the next time he’ll get to see her. To save her._

“Take care.”

**Present**

He jams the knife and twists. Another body drops. He hears the sirens closing in now. 

She should have never chosen him, he thinks. If the world were different, he would have chosen her, too. 

If the world were quiet, he would have lived in the stillness with her. He would have stayed swaying with her in that elevator shaft, souls suspended through time and space. He would have had an after. 

_But the world is not quiet._

Sliding the knife back into his boot and tucking the gun into his back pocket, he walks out of the ally to greet the sirens.

*Finish*


End file.
